


In Search of Caffeination

by somewhereelse



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 17:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12017259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somewhereelse/pseuds/somewhereelse
Summary: Five scenes from the morning shift at Verdant Coffee Co., and one from after closing.





	In Search of Caffeination

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the multimedia experience of the ”Oliver owns a coffee shop and Felicity is his loyal-if-not-worryingly-dependent regular” AU. 
> 
> (I don’t think there are words adequate to describe the headache I have from eyestrain. Four days ago, I was still reading tutorials on how to make a GIF, and since then this happened. For a seven thousand word fic. For fuck’s sake.)
> 
> 1\. How many Arrowverse characters can I shove into the background of a coffee shop AU? How many people do you even need to operate a coffee shop?  
> 2\. You know how my author notes are always disclaiming that I know nothing about the subject matter on which the entire plot hinges? I googled the difference between coffee and espresso, and I still don’t know.  
> 3\. Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon Week 15 prompt: Choose.

 

 

**September 1, 10:49 AM**

Rory’s cleaning the blenders when he hears them come in. It’s later than usual for them since they’re normally part of the morning rush, but that’s just ended. Felicity and Curtis are his favorite regulars, courteous and actually interested—or at least good at pretending to be interested—in how his classes are going. It’s a nice change of pace from the brisk and sometimes rude crowd of office workers that otherwise frequents Verdant Coffee Co.

(The staff actually calls it the Green Bean because, you know, _verdant_ and coffee and green decor. Obviously, the boss isn’t a fan.)

The clientele is slowly changing though. Oliver put his younger sister in charge of the social media accounts, and she’s been surprisingly effective. Instead of being the territory of office workers in the morning and lunch hour, there’s been a gradual influx of students, locals, and tourists looking for a new spot away from the chains.

Rory doesn’t always agree with all of Thea’s methods. He was especially relieved when Oliver stepped in to veto shirtless posts even if Thea could have gotten Roy to agree. But he can’t deny that he’s been getting tipped better and asked out on a ridiculous number of dates ever since she started #hotbaristasofverdant. On the other hand, he _almost_ feels sorry for the suckers who come looking for Iris only to find that she’s blissfully dating the nerdiest man alive—not that he has any room to judge Barry—but don’t stalk pretty girls you see on the internet is kind of a rule of thumb for him.

Speaking of his fellow nerds though...

“Choose. Chooose. Choooose.”

Over by the pastry case, Curtis is needling Felicity, who’s carrying on her daily routine of eyeing the treats. He’s worked here for almost a year, and to his knowledge, she’s never actually tried anything. Yet that does nothing to diminish her reputation as their primary source of income. She drinks an almost obscene amount of coffee. That’s not even taking into account the ones Oliver refuses to let her pay for.

He abandons the cleaning duties in favor of starting Felicity’s usual. Curtis keeps up the chanting for a few more seconds, drawing each word out and deepening his voice to James Earl Jones territory. Rory’s always had a serious disposition, or so his parents say. Smiles and laughs don’t come easily to him, but these two nearly pull those expressions from him daily. He’s starting to suspect they’re overplaying their dynamic on purpose to see who can make him crack first.

Felicity finally cuts Curtis off, pushing him towards the register, while the tall, lanky man half-heartedly complains about her violent tendencies. Closer up, they both look tired and drawn, their banter fading quickly. So it’s that kind of day.

“Morning, guys. Should I make Felicity’s a double?” he proactively offers.

“ _Please_ ,” Curtis begs with wide eyes. “She pulled an all-nighter off the craptastic coffee at the office, and, well, I want to have kids one day, man.”

“Then I suggest you stop talking,” Felicity threatens though they both know there’s no malice behind it.

She accepts the drink from him with a grateful yet weary smile, and he moves onto the process of making Curtis’ concoction. Everyone hates making the damn thing—if this place were a Starbucks, he could probably get a BuzzFeed article about all the initials that would be necessary to translate the order—but he kind of likes it. Gets a weird sense of satisfaction after completing the overly complicated monster.

He and Curtis exchange some small talk about the Rockets’ current season while he works the espresso machine, the steamer, and the blender in quick succession. Felicity is quiet, observing the usual bustle of the shop. When the noise of the blender dies down, he dutifully asks Felicity if she wants something out of the pastry case, already knowing her answer. She declines and puts off the decision, saying that she’ll finally pick something to go with her afternoon coffee later. Chances are she won’t.

While he’s running her credit card, Curtis asks where the boss man is, and Rory freezes. How could he have been so distracted when they first came in? Cleaning blenders isn’t that interesting.

Before they arrived, Oliver had left on a “very important” errand with a carrier tray of coffees. Yesterday, Iris had given him this lecture about how waiting for the right time is never going to happen and how she and Barry felt like they wasted years, working up the courage to be honest with each other. Carpe diem, and all that jazz. Rory assumed Oliver was ignoring them as usual, but then the dynamic duo failed to show up at their usual time this morning and an hour he was out the door for a “delivery”. Since they don’t actually deliver, Rory only needed one guess to know where he was going.  

Finishing the transaction, he makes up an excuse for Oliver’s absence and waves them off. Thankfully, they’re also in a rush, not sticking around to chat as they normally would when it’s less busy. Rory pulls his phone out of his back pocket then sends a text littered with errors because of his haste.

**_Sje came on. There heading back mow._ **

 

 

 

**September 5, 10:11 AM**

Iris likes the Green Bean—Verdant, she means.

It kind of surprises her since she thought she’d miss Jitters more, but it’s a similar vibe, bright and airy like the last bastion of goodness in Starling City. The clientele isn’t terrible, mainly businesspeople who can afford to pay the premium prices for their products—and hipsters, so very many hipsters—and her boss is surprisingly nice.

Not a big talker, but as long as she does her job competently and doesn’t distract him when he’s pastry chef’ing, he’s reasonable. Oliver’s protective, too. It’s a relief to know he’ll stand up to inappropriately demanding customers who belittle the baristas. You’d think those people had never made a mistake in their lives before. And whenever she’s scheduled to close and Barry’s busy at work, he walks her to her car.

Overall, moving from her childhood home hasn’t felt like the huge life setback she was expecting. She’s got her boyfriend, a job she likes, and a growing group of friends. The only thing that’s missing is a long-term plan, but that’s _been_ missing. When Barry first convinced her to move to Starling City, she hadn’t—and still hasn’t—figured out what she wanted to do with her life. It makes her dad nervous, but she’ll worry about her career once she finds something she’s actually passionate about. 

Currently, the only thing in her life resembling passion is her intense investment in the Oliver and Felicity flirtation. Well, and her love for Barry, but that’s more steadfast and everlasting. It doesn’t provide her with a front row seat to a daily soap opera.  

Like right now.

Oliver’s head is on a swivel. Has been ever since 9:30 a.m. came and went without hide or hair of Felicity or Curtis. She wants to offer to let him wait on the bench in front of the store, where he can be out of their way and drum up some more foot traffic with his aesthetically appealing everything, but she knows he’ll refuse. It’s the Tuesday after a long weekend, and people are _struggling_ to get back into gear so they’re still packed when usually the morning rush would have died down a half hour ago.

“Oliver! Matcha not mocha,” Iris corrects in a hissed whisper. With a briskness that probably would have gotten her fired at any other time or place, she elbows him out of the way at the register. “Go. Fill orders. You _can_ follow instructions right now, right?”

He shoots her a warning look but concedes and heads to the other end of the counter to help Roy. Iris spots a few regulars with simple orders in line and pours their drip coffees as people use the POS machine. Her foresight moves things along so they’re less backlogged.

Finally, she sees the light at the end of the tunnel, or the blonde at the end of the line. Felicity waves, mouthing a “wow” at the line that still stretches to the door. Iris smiles but doesn’t bother waving her forward. Someone is bound to cause a scene, and Felicity wouldn’t take the offer anyway. Iris knows when Oliver spots her because she hears a yelp as Roy is somehow attacked by the steaming wand, or more accurately a distracted Oliver.

A few minutes later, Felicity greets her brightly. “I thought I was being smart and avoiding the crowd by coming later than usual.” Exchanging the drink for her card, she lets out a satisfied hum at the first sip. “Blueberry muffins look good today. But then so do the apple tarts.”

“Today’s more a Monday than a Tuesday, so we’re slammed still.” She tries not to sound ungrateful that business is good because that equals job security. At least the wait afforded Felicity time to ogle the pastries without Oliver giving anyone the stink eye for trying to move her along. “They’re both amazing. One day, I’m just going to pick something for you.”

Iris doesn’t understand how Felicity can look in there almost every day and still not be tempted enough to just pick one. Oliver has this uncanny habit of baking lemon bars on days where her willpower is the weakest, and she always ends up eating at least three. She has no idea how that’s never happened to Felicity.

“ _Please_ ,” Felicity pleads. “I think it’s decision fatigue or the paradox of choice. Maybe both. All I know is, I’d rather have none than feel like I made the wrong choice.”

Okay, she can understand that kind of uncertainty. “Speaking of choices, great outfit today.” Felicity smiles and thanks her for the compliment. “And if Oliver made it, there is no wrong choice.”

As if speaking his name has conjured him, Oliver appears at her side. Suddenly, the older businessman behind Felicity no longer looks annoyed at what he would probably call girly chitchat. In fact, half the shop seems to stop what they’re doing, subtly angling to catch a glimpse of the register. The buzz from the line quiets, and she thinks she hears one customer shush another on their phone.

Matters of the heart take precedence over matters of caffeine.

Suddenly looking shy, Felicity lifts her cup to her mouth to hide a smile. “Hi, Oliver.”

“Felicity.” Iris hears from beside her. She wants to turn to watch but that seems too awkward. “How’s the coffee?”

“Spectacular,” she lets them see her grin this time, “It feels really good having you inside me.”

Iris’ jaw drops open. That man behind Felicity barely chokes back his laugh. Finally, the penny drops for Felicity, and she turns bright red.

“And by you, I mean your coffee. And by me, I mean my mouth—no! My taste buds? Stomach? Is that better? I’m going to go now before this gets any more sexual harassment-y.”

Felicity mutters, “What is wrong with you?” as she scurries out the door. The sound of the shop escalates to its usual noise level after her departure. Leaning back to look past the still-recovering Oliver, Iris shares a disbelieving look with Roy.

Oh, this is so going on the Green Bean group text.

 

  

 

**September 13, 10:33 AM**

 

  

 

Evelyn, the newest and youngest hire, is a sometimes frustrating combination of acerbic, which is to say a typical teenager, and endearing, given her baby face. Roy once called her “adorably murderous” and he’s probably not wrong. She does make a mean espresso though. Something about all that teenage angst just makes it better, or maybe _bitter_ —in the good way.

But when Felicity sees Evelyn at the espresso machine with Iris manning the register, it’s a surprise. “What’s shortstack doing here?” she questions Oliver who’s rearranging the pastry case.

“Shortstack?” he repeats, and she nods towards Evelyn. “That’s hilarious coming from you. At least she has a shot at a growth spurt still. Teacher planning day or whatever.”

Her eyes go wide when he finishes sliding a tray into the case, effectively distracting her from the height-related low blow. “You got enough croissants there, Oliver?” Pulling out her phone, she takes a quick picture. “Are you one of those people who doesn’t sleep and bakes all night?”

“Only when I’m stressed,” he replies, and she raises an eyebrow at the indirect admission that he’s stressed. “And I’d have one less croissant if you’d just try one. On the house, even.”

Felicity’s been frequenting Verdant on an almost daily basis for over a year, and she’s yet to try any of Oliver’s creations. It’s not her fault everything looks so good, and she has an indecisive nature. She doesn’t actually. Normally, she’s very decisive. It’s just that when it comes to choosing drinks and pastries that look like they belong in a Wes Anderson movie, she wants them _all_. But if she buys them all, she wouldn’t actually eat them for fear of ruining the pretty. It’s also why she switched to black coffee. That way she doesn’t have to feel guilty about drinking a cat’s face or something equally ridiculous.

“Nope,” she declines, an impressive feat in the face of his puppy dog eyes, “The only free things I accept are coffee. Besides you have three kinds. How would I choose just one?” Plus, she (illogically) worries that if she eats a delicious pastry baked by the deliciously handsome man in front of her, he’ll completely ruin her for other, more attainable men.

Drumming his fingers on the glass, Oliver sighs, “Take one of each then.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That would totally cut into your bottom line.” She waves him off before he can try to insist again. “I’m running on fumes right now, and a sugar/butter crash would not help. I say that from experience. They do look really good though. Totally gram-worthy if Thea were here.”

“They don’t look as good as you,” he shoots back breezily.

That response gives her pause. Their flow of banter mainly consists of gentle teasing. It started after she upped their internet speeds, only to find out that Oliver was all thumbs when it came to technology, part of why Thea’s in charge of social media. In return, he goes after the number of shoes she owns and her penchant for saying things in the worst way. What they don’t do is feed each other lines that are more fitting for sleazy and cheesy flirting at a club.

Oliver seems just as unsettled by his change in conversation style because he quickly switches gears back to safety. “Haven’t seen you lately. And what’s with the new time? I’ve been expecting you for an hour.”

Felicity leans a hip against the counter, letting her eyes wander over the familiar shop. Oliver’s right. She hasn’t come by in days, and even before that her visits were more sporadic. “Took on a few new clients last month and had a couple of security breach attempts. Unrelated, I’m pretty sure. So Smoak Enterprises has been busier than usual—yay, go us—but not enough to hire—boo, no sleep. And I kind of like avoiding the morning rush. Means I can linger and not feel guilty about getting in someone’s way.”

“Well, congratulations on the new clients and condolences on the lack of sleep. Linger all you want. I’d love to spend more time with you.”

Assuming it’s another line, Felicity scoffs skeptically. That is until she looks up and makes eye contact. His soft eyes and even softer smile make her stomach flip, so she quickly breaks eye contact again, turning back to the seating area.

The cozy interior with its warm woods and refreshing palette of white, gray, and green delights her eyes as reliably as the opening credits to her favorite TV show. After being up all night fixing code, having something else to focus on is a visual relief. And hadn’t she read somewhere that green is very soothing for eye strain?

Yeah, that must be why she likes this place so much. Nothing at all to do with the man-shaped proprietor who thinks the main tenet of his business plan includes flirting with her to the amusement of the staff and other regulars. Actually, given that he looks like that and has a profit to turn, flirting probably _is_ a main tenet of his business plan.

Isn’t that the entire point of hiring attractive bartenders/wait staff/baristas? Everyone working at Verdant is ridiculous(ly good-)looking, and Thea’s starting to take full advantage on social media. It’s a good reminder for why she shouldn’t take his words to heart.

Oliver’s a nice guy, despite his previous reputation to the contrary, and very far out of her league. He’s probably just trying to make her feel better, especially since she assumes she looks as rundown as she feels, in that way people in the service industry do to generate loyalty and continued business. Even though that’s a little bit of a moot point with her. She’s already given them five-star, glowing reviews on every digital platform available.

“As much as I’d like to hang out here, I should get back to work,” she quickly excuses herself. Oliver gives her another smile—this one looks kind of unsure?—and gestures to the register where Iris is waiting with her drink.

Awkwardly, she waves at him and retrieves her coffee from Iris. They start talking about her and Barry’s weekend trip to Coast City, and before Oliver disappears to the back, he politely interrupts them to pointedly remind her that she’s welcome to stay as long as she likes. Iris winks at her after he does, and flustered, Felicity excuses herself to the bathroom.

It takes a solid five minutes for her blush to subside, and she uses the time to post an Instagram story to at least have something else to focus on. When she emerges, Oliver is once again in the seating area, perched at a high-top table. He calls her over once she retrieves her coffee from where she left it by the register.

“Since you’re open to free coffee, one more for the road? On the house.”

Felicity accepts and does a dorky happy dance out of the shop. Oliver does his best not to laugh at her, but it’s a pretty tall order, no pun intended. If her hands weren’t full, she’d totally facepalm right now.

What the hell is she thinking?

She and Oliver have been flirting for months now. She can try to mentally downplay it all she wants, but it’s hard to ignore when the entire shop comes to a standstill to watch them interact. Oliver just told her that he wants to spend more time with her and has always very sweetly tried to take care of her. Sometimes, Curtis returns with coffee for her, after he’s sworn up and down that she has to take a break and get it herself, because Oliver insisted he deliver it. Plus, he keeps trying to feed her and that has to count for something other than having another guinea pig for his recipes.

Stopping at the next corner, she turns around, marches back towards Verdant. Time for her to choose a pastry. Metaphorically speaking.

 

  

 

**September 13, 10:57 AM**

 

  

 

Barry rarely gets the chance to visit Verdant in the daylight. Usually, he picks Iris up from her closing shifts, and it’s pretty dark by then. But he had a crime scene that put him on this side of downtown and he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to visit his favorite person.

Plus, there was that one time he ran into Thea after patronizing the Starbucks across the street from his apartment. Really, that’d been a big part of why they picked that apartment. How was he supposed to know that Iris would get a job at the best coffee shop in the city and become ridiculously loyal? It wasn’t even his fault that they ran out of coffee and she was too tired/hungover to go across town to Verdant, but she made him put on a disguise—sunglasses, beanie, an old jacket from his “rebellious” high school phase—and go get them coffee. Thea managed to recognize him anyway, never mind what _she_ was doing in that part of town. Then she put him on blast on Snapchat.

He’s still living that down.

Pushing the door open, it takes him a second to get his bearings. Has this place always been so well lit? And all that green so bright? Iris waves at him from behind the register where she’s helping a customer, so he wanders over to Oliver who’s taking a rare break at a high top.

“Barry, good to see you,” Oliver greets, “What are you doing here right now?”

“Crime scene not too far away. Thought I’d pop in for an early lunch. See Iris.”

With an almost indiscernible eye roll, Oliver pulls a face.

“What?” Barry asks self-consciously. It’s kind of weird being friends with Oliver. Not something he ever imagined when all he knew about Ollie Queen is that he was a rich douchebag with two living parents he obviously didn’t appreciate enough. Now, Oliver’s good opinion means something to him.

“Nothing.” Barry just raises his eyebrows suspiciously at the obvious lie. “You sighed when you said Iris’ name.”

Oh. He’s been there before, when he and Iris were nothing but a pipe dream. Watching his other friends couple up and Iris date other guys, he was uncharacteristically glum whenever confronted with affection and love. If someone even just spoke fondly of their significant other, he would pout, maybe whine a little. It’s only because he and Iris are dating now that he can look back on his behavior and see it for what it was.

“Not getting anywhere on the whole ‘telling Felicity you’re in love with her’ thing?”

It’s not exactly a secret. When Barry first met Felicity, he thought she’d been flirting with him, despite knowing that he’s Iris’ boyfriend. He’s pretty sure every guy thinks she’s flirting with them with all the accidental innuendo she drops. But then he watched Felicity and Oliver interact and he realized _that_ was flirting. Compared to their intensity, she barely acknowledged his existence.

Oliver gives just as good as he gets. Whenever Felicity’s around, he goes soft at the edges. Then there’s the way he’s constantly making sure she eats and drinks enough, conscripting anyone available—and not necessarily available—to make deliveries to her office. Their affection for each other surpasses the casual friendship they both claim. Iris’ group text with the rest of the staff has only confirmed that Oliver and Felicity are toeing the line of something more. It’s why he’s so unprepared for Oliver’s insistent, and frankly kind of loud, denial. Obviously, the whole ‘being in love with Felicity’ thing is kind of a sore spot for the other man. 

His eyes widen when he sees Felicity enter the shop, which is weird because she’s already holding two cups. Oliver’s moved on to the part where he claims that they’re just friends and giving her free coffee doesn’t mean he’s in love with her, and Barry figures he should stop him before he digs a hole that can’t be undug.

“Little louder, Oliver,” he interrupts harshly, “I don’t think Felicity heard you say you’re not in love with her.”

At this point, he’s trying to spare both of his friends’ feelings. Iris intercepted Felicity, but that’s not to say Oliver’s voice didn’t carry to the door. And Oliver might be deep in denial right now, but he’d be devastated if he ever realizes how much his words might hurt Felicity. He must really be worked up about this, or else he would have just _sensed_  Felicity nearby and shut himself up.

The sarcasm does the job, and Oliver’s rant comes to an abrupt end. “What are you talking about? Felicity left.”

So she _did_  come back. Even for Felicity, that’s a lot of coffee. Barry’s starting to wonder if she had an ulterior motive for returning. And now he’s trying to analyze Felicity’s ulterior motives for coming to a coffee shop? He’s spending too much time with Detective Lance.

“Or she’s standing over there talking to Iris.”

Oliver shifts one way then the other, trying to turn casually. He pales once he makes it far enough to register that Felicity really is right there. “Shit. Do you think she heard me?”

Unable to resist teasing him, Barry questions why it even matters since they’re all friends, and as a friend, he’d like some free coffee, too. Predictably, Oliver tells him to shut up. Then, because Oliver can’t stop being a train wreck, he’s out of his seat, approaching Felicity and Iris.

“Hi!” Barry jogs over to quickly kiss Iris and break the awkward silence that’s come between the other two. “What are you guys talking about?”

“I was just coming back to pay for the second coffee,” Felicity answers. Her voice is hard and unyielding. Aside from a few times when he’s overheard her on the phone with hardheaded clients, Barry’s never heard that tone from her. “You’re running a business, and I shouldn’t take advantage of that. Especially since we’re all friends.”

Felicity heads for the register to set down the coffees and pull out her wallet. After sending him a look of confusion and concern, Iris follows to assist.

“I think she heard you.”

“Shut up, Barry.”

 

  

 

**October 3, 9:42 AM**

“You just missed Curtis,” she reports when Oliver returns from wherever he’s been. He’s been disappearing a lot lately. Each of the baristas has noted that some days he loads up a carrier tray of coffees, leaves for up to thirty minutes, and then comes back, still holding the coffees. Today is one of those days.

She’d try to guess what he’s been up to, but she thinks she already knows.

Ignoring her comment, he frowns at her. “Hey, stop harassing the baristas and sharing our personal lives on Instagram. That’s not why I put you in charge of social media.”

No, he put her in charge of social media because he didn’t want to do it, and she’s sort of Instagram famous. Not on purpose though. She just has a trust fund and a boyfriend with a jawline that could cut glass. Despite being offered some low level endorsements, she’s refused each time because, well, trust fund and Roy’s good at reality checks. So she just goes on documenting her life, which mostly involves annoying her brother at Verdant and convincing Roy to go on vacation with her. Mom’s been needling her about doing some volunteer work, AKA joining some pretentious board, so she’s looking into helping at the soup kitchen a few blocks away. Which should have the added benefit of making Oliver stop complaining at her for being a lay about.

“Fine, I’ll get Rory’s permission next time,” she concedes with a sulky eye roll. Raising her voice, she adds, “You hear that Rory? You’re the only one complaining.”

Despite appearances to the contrary, Rene is kind of a ham, especially when Zoe visits, and Iris is too sweet to ever disagree. In contrast, Evelyn’s given her the middle finger in every picture so far, and Oliver says she can’t use those. It goes without saying that Roy pretty much just puts up with whatever she posts of him. Really is a shame that Oliver vetoed the shirtless posts because they could drum up some good publicity that way. “Do it for the gram” just doesn’t resonate at all with him.

Oliver gives her a dry look that tells her he doesn’t think it’s much of a concession. “What are you doing here? I thought you were coming in this afternoon.” They both know she’s never been a morning person.

“The director asked me to come by this morning for my interview. I figured I’d get here early, visit my favorite coffee shop—oh and you.” She didn’t even know that places reliant on volunteers interviewed them, but maybe it’s something about making sure that her well-documented flighty nature doesn’t affect their mission.

“Director?” he repeats, pouring the undrunk coffees down the sink. She tsks loudly, steals the last one from his hand, and rounds the bar to find ice for the already lukewarm liquid. When she glares at him disapprovingly, he looks away guiltily, “What? I can’t serve those again.”

“We will get to why you’re being so weird in a moment. But waste not, want not. On that note, I mean the director of the soup kitchen. I’m going to volunteer there. If they let me,” Thea tacks on with an unsure shrug.

“They interview volunteers?”

“I think it’s a matter of my reputation preceding me.”

Oliver nods knowingly. It’s why he couldn’t get a small business loan when he decided to open Verdant. Good thing he has that handy dandy trust fund.

“Anyway. Did you hear me? You just missed Curtis.”

“So?” He looks skeptical, like he knows where she’s going to take this.

Thea hates being a known quantity but in this case, she’ll allow it. “He said Felicity isn’t going to get away from her desk anytime soon. And he and Gerry are refusing to bring her coffee to try to make her leave and come here.”

“I repeat: So?”

Reaching up, she tries to smack the back of his head, but he’s too quick, pushing her away.

“Can we put this on Instagram?” Rory asks, walking over with a tub of dirty dishes.

Thea rolls her eyes. Of course, he would want payback for that post. She can’t tell if he really doesn’t enjoy the attention, or if he’s just arguing for the sake of arguing. Oliver’s right though about respecting boundaries, so she’s down one #hotbaristaofverdant until Rory can be convinced otherwise.

“No, but we’re posting something else.” When they both stare at her blankly, she sighs. “Big brother asking out Felicity.”

“What? No!”

Oliver’s denial is swift and decisive. She almost expects him to wave his hands dramatically and make slashing motions across his throat. Good thing Dad’s always said the Queen siblings are like an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object.

“Yes, you are. Everyone knows where you have been going—or should I say not going—with those coffees almost every day.” She raises her voice over his cursory denial, “I’m talking about the coffees you just literally poured down the drain. Like you are figuratively doing to your relationship with Felicity—not just your shot at a _romantic_ relationship but also your _friendship_. You two have been off for weeks now, and based on that stupid hangdog expression you get whenever she does come here, it’s your fault.”

Oliver looks to Rory for support, but he only shrugs in a ‘she’s not wrong’ way.

“So you are going to make a gesture, not a very big gesture but it totally counts, and personally deliver her coffee like you have been trying to do for weeks.” Again, he tries to interrupt, but she’s hit with a stroke of genius. “I won’t even make you talk to her.” 

Thea snags the marker out of Rory’s apron pocket and ignores his protests. She grabs a paper cup from the counter and shoves both at Oliver. Reluctantly, he takes them from her.

“You’re going to write it.”

 

  

 

**October 3, 8:37 PM**

Verdant is actually Glades adjacent, in that one and a half block strip that separates the west side of the Glades from the east side of the central business district. They’re a ten minute walk to Rebecca Merlyn’s free clinic in one direction and ten minutes to the Merlyn Global headquarters in the other. Way too late, Oliver learned that’s why Mrs. Merlyn chose the clinic’s location. She couldn’t stand watching people suffer while literally living in her husband’s shadow. On the other hand, QC’s headquarters are clear on the other side of town—and no one’s ever praised his parents for their compassion.

That contrast is why he runs Verdant as charitably as he can. The staff knows to be generous if someone comes asking for food or drink, daily leftovers go to the soup kitchen, and he stays open a little later on weekdays so local kids who don’t have home internet can use the WiFi (no purchase necessary). Only after opening Verdant did he realize that every little bit helps, especially in a community as deprived as this one.

In fact, it’s how he first got to know Felicity as someone other than the cute blonde who comes in almost every morning. She’d been working late and gotten kicked out of her office building when the fire alarm went off. Assuming that it was a false alarm and would be cleared up quickly, she wandered over to Verdant for the time being to keep working. Since he was the only one there that late, he was the recipient of her inspired ranting about how shitty their WiFi connection was.

Very quietly, he pointed out that the entire shop was filled with middle school and high school kids working on their homework. Felicity turned bright red when she realized why they weren’t studying at home and offered to boost their connection speed as long as he didn’t ask how she did it. Oliver agreed, thinking it was a token offer made as a result of her embarrassment, but then she showed up the next night, arms laden with equipment and Curtis in tow. 

Once they had better than shitty internet and a computer expert willing to troubleshoot for free, Verdant really became an unofficial community center for their slice of the city. He’s still able to turn a small profit from the morning and lunch traffic, and Thea’s ingeniously irreverent social media posts have been great for spreading word of mouth, but if they ever shut down, more than just the nine-to-fivers would suffer from the closure.  

So that someone is pounding on Verdant’s front door after closing isn’t exactly surprising. If it’s someone who needs food, they’re sort of out of luck. He just ran the day’s leftovers to the soup kitchen and can redirect them there. If it’s a drunk, then he has no problem leaving the door locked.

Nope.

It’s _Felicity_.

He comes to a halt between the door and the counter when he spots her. She’s watching him when he does though so she shoots him an exasperated look and pointedly knocks a fist on the glass. Wishing she would stop that so he has less to clean in the morning, he goes to unlock the door.

“Did you run here?” he questions incredulously. She’s wearing another pair of impractically yet really appreciated high heels, but she’s panting as if she has. And it’s late and already dark out. Even if she is something of a local celebrity in the neighborhood, she knows better than to be this close to the Glades by herself at night.

Holding up a finger, she signals for him to wait. Felicity sucks in a few more deep breaths, then, “Do you—I really need—”

“To catch your breath?” He can’t resist teasing her. It’s been too long where they haven’t just stared at each other in awkward silence before perfunctorily greeting and saying goodbye in the same breath.

“No. Jerk. Croissants. I need... _croissants_. All of them.”

She stares at him expectantly. It takes a second, but then he remembers. His entire body stills and he holds onto his breath instinctively.

All day, he’s tried to put it out of his mind and only succeeded when he was at the soup kitchen, chatting with the director about Thea volunteering. Then Felicity had shown up in an unexpected way, and he teased her like normal for the first time in a long time. Somehow, he forgot that just under twelve hours ago he’d done a monumentally brave yet cowardly thing.

In the brave column, he finally asked her out. Granted it wasn’t without Thea needling him and looking over his shoulder the entire time. In the coward column, he left it with her assistant and asked her to answer using a code word.

Croissant for ‘yes’, kouign amann for ‘no’. He really hopes she likes croissants. He’d just been banking on her remembering that one day when they bantered over croissants and he told her he wanted to spend more time with her—before he stuck his foot in his mouth.

“Are you serious?” Oliver can’t help but confirm. Maybe she read it wrong. They’re kind of similar sounding, too, now that he thinks about it.

Felicity’s incredulous but keeps up the game. “Yeah, croissants. Give me all of them. How many you got?”

“None,” he answers honestly with a slight chuckle. For once, he doesn’t have a single baked good to offer her. Felicity’s expression falls, and he belatedly realizes what that sounds like. Like he was joking or he’s taking it back. “I just made the delivery.”

“Oh,” he’s usually preoccupied with her mouth, but especially when she does this silently talking thing, like she can’t find the right wording, “so the offer is still—”

Oliver jumps in quickly before she can misinterpret him again. “Yes. I just wasn’t expecting you till morning.”

The offer has _been_  on the table. He’s been trying to find the courage to ask her out for months now and he’s grateful that only Rory seems to know about that first aborted attempt last month. At least then he was planning on actually asking the question out loud. But Rory’s text that Felicity wasn’t in her office spooked him, even if that wasn’t the intent, and he abandoned ship instead of improvising a new plan. 

“You were going to wait an entire day for me to answer that question? Because I barely lasted two minutes. I ran here in four inch heels.”

The relief of hearing that she’s just as anxious as he is brings a smile to his face. Except—“I dropped your coffee off hours ago.”

Felicity rolls her eyes. He can’t tell if she’s annoyed at him or herself. “Yeah, well, I was busy and I didn’t notice you wrote on it. No one here ever writes on my cups. I almost threw it away! You’re lucky it was still sitting on my desk when Curtis sprinted into my office, shrieking his head off and asking me for details. I had no idea what he was talking about until he showed me the Instagram post.”

“Wait, what post?” Felicity just stares until he sighs in annoyance. He should have never let her take a picture of the cup and he’s slightly terrified of what the caption might say. “I told Thea to stop putting our personal lives on the internet.”

“Well, she’s onto something because it’s gotten more likes than anything else on the Verdant account.”

That’s... impressive. Also why are so many people invested in him and Felicity? Of course he noticed the interest people paid to them in the shop, but now random strangers on the internet know he asked Felicity out. And Thea will probably find a way to post about her answer.

Speaking of, it’s about time they stop talking about his little sister. Felicity obviously agrees because she smiles and says, “Congratulations. You finally got me to choose a pastry. I would like a croissant.”

Oliver has to chuckle at that. It really does feel like a victory almost on par with asking her out. He’s been working on both for nearly the same amount of time. “You’re very welcome to order one in the morning. On the house, of course. I might give free coffee to my friends, but I only give free pastries to the woman I’m dating.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The way she bites her lip and smiles shyly is cute. So cute, he can’t help but step closer and reach for her hand. Her smile widens before Felicity pops onto her tiptoes to meet him halfway. It’s a short kiss, soft and sweet but still electrifying and full of potential. That it happens here, in the place where they first met and became friends, is just the icing on their perfect first kiss.

Felicity drops down onto her heels, hums contently, and slowly blinks her eyes open. “Oh! I meant to ask what the heck is a—?” she stops, her forehead wrinkling as she struggles with the pronunciation.

“Kouign amann?”

Felicity goggles at him then rolls her eyes. “That’s how you say that? Why would you pick something no one can pronounce?”

With a barely suppressed smile, Oliver corrects her, “I’m pretty sure anyone who speaks French can pronounce it—and people who really like them.”

“You know what I mean.”

“The idea was to make it really hard for you to say ‘no’.” Thea made the suggestion to use something as simple as cookie for ‘yes’ and then stupidly complicated for ‘no’. Oliver pointed out that cookies weren’t exactly a breakfast food before deciding on croissant, and surprisingly, Rory came up with the ultimate winner of kouign amann.

After shaking her head in what he hopes is fondness, she pauses to question him suspiciously. “Wait, do you even sell those?”

“Technically, I could. It’s a laminated dough, just like croissants, so—” Felicity cuts him off by raising an eyebrow and saying his name. Against his will, Oliver flushes a little. “Like I said, it’d be really hard for you to say ‘no’.”

“For the record, I wouldn’t have even if I could pronounce it. You’re an easy choice.”

His lips turn upwards at the compliment, and he kisses her again, smiling fully against her lips. How natural that feels makes him regret waiting so long. But there is one thing that can wait longer.

"You know what else is an easy choice? Making Thea wait till morning to find out."

 

  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Better quality images at https://smewhereelse.tumblr.com/post/165050081232/in-search-of-caffeination-read-on-ao3-five


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